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The Belleau Region’s fabled waters brimmed with sea life in vivid color, each creature easily decipherable amidst the clarity. They were recurring characters in your sketchbook, drawn in different styles depending on your mood. Today the slopes of Mont Automnequi earned the most appeal, and only after a lunch in the meadows had the sea finally called to you.
It's done so your entire life, much to your parent’s chagrin. Frolicking and jumping with the waves had been your favorite pastime as a child, and through all of your teenage years. Even now, in young adulthood, the desire to be one with nature has not changed. Your mother accepted this affinity, at least, displaying it in a gift she had provided years ago. A sheer rich purple scarf with golden branches of coral embroidered along the edges. It was a small piece, conveniently tied to your wrist in loving sentiments.
Placing your rowboat’s oars to the side, you allowed the channel waters to carry you. A grand tower sit atop a fragmented island, high and jagged over the sea below. Shrouded by fog, only its gold-lined slopes can be deciphered in the late morning sunlight. Many stories had blossomed in the land of its grandeur. Most came to the same conclusion – that it must be the home of beings made from the ocean itself. Some say they have spotted figures along the isle’s cliffs, otherworldly in their radiance and the way they moved. Others have taken that tale further, saying that they guide righteous sailors and steal the spirits of their unsavory counterparts.
As the waves led you past the throne of minor divinity, you could only wish that they saw you as the former.
Almost in answer to your thoughts, a sharp wave guided your boat from a small strip of land. Gently, it propelled you around the edge, focusing your attention on the cave before you. Vines entwined with glowing blue flowers cascaded from stone, nearly touching the gathered moss along the water’s edge. The buds grew celestial as shadow creeped in, blocking the light from your rowing hands.
Currents stirred as soft crooning rose. It wrapped around you in a warm embrace – your mind silencing into the pictures the voice painted. Golden rays of sunlight weaved into bountiful curls. A crown of red coral and pearl perched perfectly on her head; bold in stature and design, yet still complementary. Silk robes pure white in color, trimmed with the shimmer of precious metals. Soft teal blends with the fabric, creating summery waves over her form. Her eyes reflect the deep colors below, kindness and time-defying power in their every glint.
The melody continued on with the cave, bouncing off of curving grey walls to reveal ruined pillars. Despite being broken their condition remained lovely. Far more lovely, however, was the illuminated figure beyond. She was exactly as you dreamt, and certainly even more.
She stared at you as the currents returned, summoning you to her side. Your boat paused just before her wooden deck, filled with books, trinkets, and instruments. She sat on its edge, feet dangling into the boat’s basin.
“Hello, sweet sailor!”
“A pleasant noon, sweet nymph.”
“So it is. I lose track of time far too easily here.” she laughed, firmly landing in your boat to take a seat across from you. “Care to take me home?”
“Certainly, miss. You’re safe with me.”
“Many have said that before.”
“And for that I am remorseful. Please, judge my character as you see fit. We are agreeing to be in each other’s hands, after all.”
“I’ll lead the way, then.”
She grabbed one of your oars, nodding at you in solidarity. Together you navigated back to the bright sun, sand glimmering sharply in its reflection. Her pearls shone the same, a distinct colorful luster to each. She must be the same beneath her friendly surface.
“What led you to Belleau’s waters, sailor?”
“I’m afraid I’m not a sailor, miss, only an artist. I’ve been spending time in nature all over Fontaine, studying what I can. She has proven to be my greatest muse, and this was just my next stop.”
“Truly? You enjoy her creations enough to dedicate your life to them?”
“Naturally, miss. I am one of her creations as well. Is it so outlandish, then, to enjoy being with your kind?”
She paused in her motions, simply letting the wind speak as you maneuvered over sunken ruins.
“Right you are, sweet artist.” she whispered, before her tone took to confidence. “Would you like me to show you my kind? I’m sure they’ll inspire you plenty.”
“If they are anything like you, I’ll leave no empty canvas in the nation.”
“It seems ‘sweet’ was an appropriate word for you, flatterer.”
“It’s the truth, lovely nymph.”
“Call me Navia, please.”
“Does your offer still stand, lovely Navia?”
She closed her eyes, playfully tilting her head with her arms crossed. A sliver of blue was revealed as she peeked over at you. “I suppose.”
“Then catch me if you can!”
Seawater drenched your clothes upon impact, soaking through your ornate scarf. The splash that soon followed you was unmistakable. As a Fontainian with a love for its great lake, swimming posed no obstacle. Navia proved to be an excellent challenger, her status as a nymph of the sea no doubt an influence. Despite your practice, nature bent to her will. If she wanted to catch you, it was only a matter of time.
Her white robes fluttered as one with the currents, her hair seemingly coming to life. Her beauty was dangerously paralyzing, providing her an easy victory.
Navia’s hands grasped your cheeks tightly, pulling you in. Her soft lips caressed your own, giving breath to your lungs. Whispers met your ears as water gently flowed in and out of your nose – a sensation foreign yet natural. You could hear the creatures around you, softly chattering about food and other materials. The sunlight utterly transformed the water. A lyre’s golden strings danced along each wave, intermingled with the glow of prismatic stars.
“Is this how you live?”
She beamed at your wonder-laced tone, “Of course.”
“Thank you for inviting me to your home. For showing me your world.”
Her fingertips glided down your neck, tracing your arm in one steady line to your left wrist.
“You can stay, sweet artist. The tides have always beckoned you…” her sugary voice dipped as her other hand held your chin steady, “No?”
“Yes.”
Her lips sealed against yours once more, the scarf around your wrist delicately unknotting. Navia held it like a sacred artifact – reverent as if your heart rest in her palm. Never had she expected to feel so intensely for a human, but as soon as Belleau spoke of your arrival she was enraptured. The sense of your spirit through the waters, your kindness and honor for the wildlife.
How could she resist such a rare soul?